Repose
by Pudachuck
Summary: There is more than one way to kill a man, and more than one way to live. The two men in this story find both as they consider an alternative to their ways.


_**Repose**_

**"I am numb**

**With the lonely lust of devildom.**

**Thrust the sword through the galling fetter,**

**All-devourer, all begetter"**

**~Aleister Crowley, **_**Hymn to Pan**_

**The room was dark and silent, it was as if the room was from yesteryear and had fallen from memory. The heavy drapery covering the windows was a strong barrier against what little of the outside world wanted in. Every item and ornament that adorned the dimness was in place, exactly where it had been left when it was last cleaned. If there had been a tenet to the room there was no sign: a ghost left more of a trace.**

**The scratch of the key in the lock and the turning mechanism shattered the timbre. What had before been an empty room was suddenly enlivened by the light that swung across the room as the door slowly opened. The drapes burned with maroon and gold trim. The walls showed their elegant designs and ornate detailing. The space came alive with the majesty it had been polished to present.**

**The man stood for a moment on the threshold, admiring every little detail before heaving a sigh and closing the door behind him. On any other occasion he would have taken more time, been more thorough in his assessment. He would have gone over the entire suite, but not tonight.**

**He switched on a lamp and tossed the key into a dish beside him and walked across to the bed. He took off his jacket and tossed it across the comforter, feeling the ache deep in his muscles as he did so. He was tired - exhausted both from the night's activities and the tension of weeks previous, which had prompted him to make this retreat. He let his muscles relax, grateful he did not have the holster on as well. He had not felt he needed it, since the point of being here was to get away from the danger.**

**Making his way to the window, the man wondered why he did not do this more often. The fantasies that ran through his head with the beautiful women from the casino below, the smooth drinks and the freedom of gambling for the fun of it really did take his mind off his work. He was less stressed and less worried here in this place. Perhaps this was why he did not feel the need to cover his path and check everything. Pulling back the drapes he could see the blue water of the bay and the mountains beyond the city. The scene was bathed in the pale light of the crescent moon. The chance of death coming for him here, he felt, was nil.**

**He spun a record in the player the hotel kept in the room per his request. Touching the needle to the vinyl, the faint sounds of slow jazz filled the room, blowing around on the soft breeze from the window. An armchair sat in the middle of the room, into which the man reclined. The act of sitting was not as much of a relief as sitting alone, by himself, without motion around him. He closed his eyes again and let the music carry his thoughts. Before tonight he had always been the leader, the strong one. Every day had become similar to the game of chess that he had always excelled at; requiring himself to stick to the details and outthink the enemy. The years had hardened him, desensitized him to the evils that now took place on a daily basis as a way of prolonging his life and well-being. There was little evil now that he could not commit. Thinking about it, he longed very much to live, like he had before. He longed to be afraid of the dark itself and not the entities that he knew lurked there.**

**Reaching into his pocket, the man produced a fine cigar. He saved this particular brand for himself and no one else. He clipped the end and let it fall into an ashtray, to be accompanied seconds later by the match that he used for a light. The strong, sweet smell of the smoke filled the room quickly, riding around on the warm breeze. The man drew, then exhaled with a sigh. He watched the smoke swirl up from the tip held between his fingers. His work, the goals which he progressed towards, had always fulfilled his desires and wishes. They were a means to an end, and, judging by the room which he had rented, the end was very good. But now he seemed less fulfilled. Perhaps it was his destiny to do something else, something more. There were few people who appreciated his work thus far, though only because few knew he existed. And he would continue his work, for those people and for the sake of his enemies, though his new work would be more. It would speak to his true will.**

**But not tonight, tonight the man did not care. As he drifted to sleep he handed the reigns to fate and lived free.**

*******

**The man paused at the door. It was early in the morning, just past the late of night, and no one would be around to observe him. The glow from beneath the door was unusual so he listened for a moment. The only sounds were of the wind and a muted white noise, as if the needle of a record player had been left on the track after the music had cut off. Satisfied he withdrew his sidearm and slowly opened the door, making sure he did not make a sound.**

**The scene in the room was not what he had expected. A lamp was on, throwing light onto the man who had fallen asleep in an elegant chair in the center of the room. Remnants of sweetness were still in the air from the half-smoked cigar that had fallen from his fingers into the ashtray beside him. He scanned the room for any other signs of danger and found none.**

**He quickly shut the door and strode to the man sleeping in the chair. The man appeared completely at peace. He had watched the man all evening as he had gambled and drank. He had not seen any of his lessers guarding him, which he was sure now that none were even here. The man had left none of the usual traps, had not even brought along a weapon to defend himself. Had he truly believed that he could escape here? Or anywhere?**

**A low growl of thunder and the sudden gust of wind coming through the window broke the otherwise soft ambiance. He looked up from the man in the chair out the window. He had not noticed a storm brewing.**

**Fingering his pistol he made sure the silencer was attached tightly and it was loaded. He had done this before, but it was different this time. Never before had someone been undefended and helpless. Never before had someone truly left their life in his hands. He paused for a moment while the man in the chair sighed in his sleep.**

**He shook his head and ejected the clip of his gun. People would not be happy about this, but he felt this was the right way. His instincts were what kept him alive. He withdrew a single bullet and placed it upright next to the bowl the man had set his keys in, where it would be seen when the man awoke. The man left the room then, as he had entered it. Either way, he thought, a piece of his target will die and his mission was a success.**


End file.
